


memorize me, mesmerize me

by unbrokengibberish



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 3x06 compliant, M/M, Stream of Consciousness, the sleep over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 01:49:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4858592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbrokengibberish/pseuds/unbrokengibberish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can’t believe this is really happening. He doesn’t do that romance shit, but this is pretty fucking close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	memorize me, mesmerize me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this amazing fanart: http://steorie.tumblr.com/post/129645217621/if-love-can-be-called-a-mistake-redbubble

He can’t believe this is really happening. He doesn’t do that romance shit, but this is pretty fucking close. 

Ian’s sitting close enough that he can feel his body heat flowing off of him in giant waves and it’s definitely affecting his dick more than he’d admit out loud. The house is empty. Empty, empty. Like no one is supposed to be home for the night empty and Ian is staying the night. The whole fucking night. And Mickey really doesn’t do this romance shit, but this is a fucking date if he’s ever seen one. Not that he has, but this is pretty good. Pizza bagels, action movies, and Ian’s gaze flicking over to him every few seconds. Mickey can do this. 

He doesn’t know when it changes. When they go from sitting next to each other, to Ian shoving him onto his back on the couch and crawling over him. They’ve finished their beers and their food and the movie is still playing, but Mickey can’t keep his fucking eyes off those fucking lips and Ian notices. 

He was hooked the second they touched. The feel of Ian’s thin, but full lips under his a few days ago like crack and it hadn’t been the first time they’d kissed -- there had been that one accident during sex last summer -- but it’d been the first time he’d kissed Ian with that intention. And sure his ass had literally taken the consequences, but fuck it. He wanted that mouth on his again. 

Ian shifted and suddenly he was lying between Mickey’s spread legs, hard cock pressed right up against Mickey’s own, and he was licking his way into Mickey’s mouth. The tongue thing was definitely something Mickey could get used to. It was a bit too much at first, too wet and too there, but they get the hang of it. 

He likes the feel of Ian’s tongue against his, likes sucking it like he does Ian’s cock, likes the sounds that Ian makes in the back of his throat that reverberate through Mickey where their mouths connect. 

He plunges his hands into Ian’s too short hair, ending up just gripping his scalp, as he starts to rut against Mickey through their jeans. He moans, he can’t help himself, into Ian’s mouth on a particularly pleasing grind and he can feel Ian’s damn smirk against his lips. He moves one hand down from Ian’s hair, under his jeans, to squeeze his ass and then Ian is the one moaning and Mickey is the one smirking. 

Ian brings one hand up to cup his jaw and the fact that his hand covers most of Mickey’s cheek definitely has Mickey revving to go just that much more. He likes Ian’s big hands, would never admit it out loud, but he does. He likes that Ian could manhandle him into whatever position he wanted if Mickey wasn’t so fucking intimidating. Likes the rough, yet gentle feel of them. The freckles that cover them. The way they stretch his ass and make him feel things he never thought he’d feel. Right now, he likes the way Ian kisses him dirty, but still slides his thumb so gentle over Mickey’s cheek bone. Like Mickey is a mix of fragile filth that Ian wants to memorize. 

He thinks he likes it that way. Likes the way Ian treats him like both the hardass he is and this ethereal thing that lights up Ian’s world. No one’s ever looked at him that way. The way he used to look at Mickey’s lips before Mickey would let himself be kissed. Like if he could just get his mouth on Mickey maybe the world would make sense again. 

The world around Mickey feels hot with Ian pressed up against him, every inch of his chest lined up perfectly with Mickey’s. But Mickey wants more. 

He drags his hands up from Ian’s ass, to the hem of his shirt, plunges his hands underneath the cheap material and feels the muscles in his back. He’s watched Ian workout all summer, seen the muscles all over his body grow and expand, felt the power that Ian possess in his delicate touch. 

He rakes his jagged nails down Ian’s back, as Ian presses his clothed cock more firmly against Mickey’s, and Ian pulls away from his mouth to groan. He’s always liked that Ian gets off on subtle pain. Not too much. They both have enough of that in their lives, but the pain of life. The real pain. The pain that reminds them that they are both here in this moment and that nothing bad has happened to them. Yet. Mickey doesn’t believe that his life is some fairytale. Doesn’t even believe in that fairytale shit. But as he drags his nails down Ian’s back and Ian bites at the side of his throat, Mickey thinks happily ever after doesn’t sound too fucking bad. 

He pushes up Ian’s shirt, pushes him back just enough to get the shirt off, and then pulls him back in. Ian hikes Mickey’s shirt as far up his chest as he can without actually having to part to take the shirt off. The skin of their stomachs and chests molds together and Mickey thinks he could get high from just that feeling alone, wouldn’t mind getting high from just that feeling. 

He reaches down between them, pops the button and pulls the zipper on both his and Ian’s jeans. Ian pushes down closer. Their cocks, closer by one layer, rub together and Mickey needs to get this show on the road. He wants to make out with Ian for the rest of his life, but his ass wants more. 

Shoving Ian off of him, he stands up, yanks his shirt over his head and starts walking to his bedroom. He doesn’t say a word, but Ian knows. Knows he doesn’t like talking, but can read him enough to know what he’s saying without the words. He follows Mickey obediently and when they get to the room, Mickey shoves the door shut and then shoves Ian against it. 

Ian’s eyes go wide as Mickey steps out of his jeans and then pulls on Ian’s. Ian goes without complaint, pushes his jeans down and steps out of them. Stays standing against the door. He has these tiny ass boxer brief things on and Mickey’s mouth waters at the sight of Ian’s cock straining against the fabric. He palms it lightly, just teasing, and Ian groans, slamming his head back against the door. 

But they have time and Mickey wants to appreciate this. Appreciate the quiet, empty house. Appreciate the decent temperature of his room compared to the fucking freezer at the Kash and Grab. Appreciate the look on Ian’s face as Mickey steps in closer. Appreciate fucking Ian. Appreciate Ian fucking him. 

He steps in, closer this time, and gently places one hand against Ian’s pale chest. The tight, swollen muscles under his hand twitch, and Ian sucks a deep breath through his mouth like Mickey touching him like this is so different than how they were on the couch. And it is. Mickey’s never had the chance to just watch Ian. Watch the way his pecs expand and retract with each shallow breath. Watch his heartbeat pound away in his neck. Feel his heartbeat under his own hand. 

“Mick,” Ian breathes out, and it’s the first thing that either of them have said in what feels like forever, but the praise behind it has Mickey glowing. 

Tracing his hand over Ian’s chest, he watches the way the black FUCK blurs over the creamy white of Ian’s skin. His other hand grips Ian’s side hard, probably hard enough to bruise, but Ian’s eyes are fixed on Mickey and Mickey’s eyes are fixed on Ian’s chest. He counts freckles and traces them with a reverence his own hands have never mastered on anything else. 

He can’t help himself, steps the rest of the way in and pushes his body against Ian’s, grinding into him as he places open mouthed kisses over each freckle he can find. One of Ian’s hands grips the back of his neck, keeping him in places as he sucks a hickey into Ian’s chest. The other grips his hip and pulls him in even closer. 

Mickey pulls away from Ian’s chest, dragging his lips up Ian’s neck and jaw and reconnecting them with Ian’s mouth. He feels the exact moment that Ian’s control takes over and seconds later, he is pushed backwards through the room and the back of his knees hit his own bed. 

Ian lays him down, gently compared to the way he just pushed him, and crawls on top of him. The look on his face takes Mickey’s breath away and then Ian attacks his mouth again, grinding down into Mickey with more purpose. 

Mickey hooks his hands in Ian’s boxers and yanks them down, kneading Ian’s flat ass and pulling him forward. Ian pulls away for a second just to yank down Mickey’s boxers and the instant their bare cocks touch they both lose it. Mickey’s head snaps backwards into the pillow as a groan escapes his chest. Ian buries his face in Mickey’s shoulder and bites hard as he ruts against Mickey. 

Mickey reaches back blindly until he finds the tube of lube and the condom he wants. He throws them on the bed next to Ian and pulls Ian’s face back to his. He bites hard on Ian’s bottom lip, sucking it into his own mouth, and reveling in the way that Ian pants against him. 

“Fuck me,” he breathes against Ian’s mouth. Ian presses his lips hard against Mickey’s and plunges his tongue into Mickey’s mouth, moaning all the while as he pushes their boxers all the way down. They both fight to get them off with their feet and then Mickey spreads his legs and Ian falls into place between them. 

He wants to do something, something they’ve never done in a bed, something that feels too intimate. When Ian shifts to let Mickey turnover, Mickey shakes his head gently, not making eye contact and pulls Ian back down between his legs. 

Ian takes the hint, knowing what Mickey wants without the words needing to be spoken. He reaches behind Mickey’s head, drags the pillow down, and props it behind Mickey’s back. 

He pulls off of Mickey’s mouth and kisses his jaw, his neck, his chest. He licks at Mickey’s nipples and Mickey is already seeing stars. He bites, this side of too hard, and Mickey groans and moans and squirms and pushes his hands onto Ian’s head and holds him there. Ian smirks around his nipple, licking and sucking and biting and moves onto the next one to do the same. 

He continues his journey down Mickey’s body, planting wet kisses down Mickey’s middle and sucking a hickey into the underside of Mickey’s soft belly. Mickey hates how much he loves this. Hates how much he wants Ian’s mouth to stay on him forever. Hates admitting that he loves the way Ian loves his body. 

Ian takes Mickey into his mouth and Mickey shuts his eyes hard, holding onto Ian’s head, as Ian wraps his lips around the head of Mickey’s dick. He licks. He sucks. He trails his lips gently, before taking Mickey all the way in. His nose is buried at the base of Mickey’s cock and Mickey looks down. Ian’s eyes, green and clear and fucking sparkling, watch him. His lips are red and shiny and stretched around Mickey’s cock and Mickey has never seen something so beautiful. He looks like Christmas came early. Ian’s throat contracts around him and Mickey shouts “fuck yes” before he can stop himself. 

Ian’s hands trail down Mickey’s thighs and to his knees and then Mickey’s legs are being pushed up and to his sides. He holds them with his own hands behind his knees and watches as Ian pops off his cock and moves down further, sucking his balls into his mouth and then licking a stripe up his ass. Mickey wants to die of pleasure. Ian isn’t half as confident in bed as he pretends to be, but he knows exactly what to do to make Mickey lose his mind and that’s all Mickey cares about. 

Ian fucking sucks at Mickey’s asshole, getting it nice and wet, making Mickey crazy, before pushing his tongue in. It’s a weird feeling, something that Mickey isn’t quite used to. They’ve only done this a few times before. But it’s good. It’s thick and wet and flexible and Mickey pushes down as much as he can. Ian takes the hint, pulls off, and slicks up two fingers. 

He teases Mickey’s hold a bit, before just pushing in. It stings a bit, but Ian knows Mickey’s ass by now. Knows the difference between pleasure pain and actual pain. Mickey moans, holding his legs open for Ian, as Ian stretches him, pushing against the bundle of nerves inside Mickey that make Mickey want to scream. 

He remembers they are alone. He screams. Moans. Groans. At the top of his lungs. And Ian apparently can’t take anymore because he rolls the condom on, slicks himself up, and then he is buried balls deep within Mickey, and Mickey’s never felt more full. Whole. 

Mickey wraps his legs around Ian’s back, bringing his hands up to Ian’s neck to hold on for the ride. After a few thrusts, he moves his hands to Ian’s freckled ass and kneads. He loves the feeling of Ian’s pliant ass beneath his fingers. As Ian’s thrusts increase, he becomes bolder. He drags a dry finger over Ian’s hole and Ian spasms, hitting Mickey’s prostate and groaning into Mickey’s shoulder. 

They are a sweaty mess of limbs and Mickey has never felt more comfortable in his life. The feeling of Ian inside him is something that he can’t even think of replicating. It’s different than anything he’s ever felt. Ian thrusts hard and Mickey’s almost there. 

He grabs the lube from beside him, while Ian’s face is buried where Mickey’s neck meets his shoulder. He slicks up one of his own fingers and then pushes it into Ian’s ass without warning. 

“Fuck,” Ian practically screams. His thrusts get wilder, quicker. Mickey loves it. He works his finger back into Ian and he knows when he touches Ian’s prostate. 

Ian pulls one of Mickey’s legs off of his back, gets up on his own knees, and pistons into Mickey like his life depends on it. When Mickey’s orgasm hit him, he thinks that maybe it does. Mickey comes between them, messy and dirty and so, so good. Ian thrusts a few more time, looking for all the world like the most determined boy alive and then comes, spasming into the condom and collapsing on top of Mickey. 

He kisses the side of Mickey’s neck, wet with sweat, and Mickey’s hands pet at Ian’s back. They breathe erratically together, working out a steady pattern against the other’s chest. Ian doesn’t move for a while. 

But eventually he pulls away. Gets up to discard of the condom, bare ass walking out of Mickey’s room, and returning a moment later with a damp wash cloth. He goes back to touching Mickey like he’s glass and there’s something loving about it that Mickey would never admit that he loves. 

When they are both clean, Ian crawls onto the side of Mickey’s bed. Mickey trapped between the wall and Ian. The only place he’s ever felt safe. They fall asleep together, tangled up, pressed together like one. Ian’s head is on Mickey’s chest, and Mickey carts his hands over Ian’s short hair. 

He thinks about how he doesn’t do the romance thing. But maybe with Ian, it just comes naturally.

**Author's Note:**

> come chat me up @ [unbrokengibberish](http://unbrokengibberish.tumblr.com)


End file.
